Late Night Training
by Smackalicious
Summary: Palmer and Vance have been having secret late night meetings. Well, isn't that interesting. Crack!fic.


**Title: Late Night Training**  
**Pairing: implied Palmer/Vance (yes, you read that right)**  
**Rating: K+**  
**Genre: Mostly Gen **  
**Cat: Crack!fic**  
**Spoilers: Absolutely None.**  
**Warnings: Turn back now if you don't want to giggle.**  
**Summary: Palmer and Vance have been having secret late night meetings. Well, isn't that interesting.**  
**Author's Note: Yeah, finally got around to writing a Pance fic. (Pance. New ship. Calling it. You can thank me later.) Because I wanted to write something, and I was going to write something for Kay and needed a prompt, so I went to the pairing generator and got Palmer/Vance/angrily and I said, "Well, I can't pass that up! I don't know what I'll write, but I'll think of something!" And indeed I did. There is no redeeming value in this, just pure silliness. Which works.**

* * *

Vance stormed into autopsy, giving a sharp look around as he sought out the object of his thoughts. It didn't take long to spot him, as autopsy was a relatively open room and most of the people in there were dead already. The thought almost made him smile, but he forced the corners of his mouth down again as he remembered the reason for his journey down to the lower floor of NCIS from his nice cushy office.

"Palmer," he barked, and the younger man jumped, the surgical instrument in his hand falling from his hand and clattering against the metal table at which he was standing. He turned to face the director, lifting his face shield and stripping his gloves before pushing up his glasses, his eyes wide as . . . well, wide eyes.

"Yes, Director?" he asked, suddenly paranoid about having bad breath as Vance stepped closer, and he stuck out his bottom lip and blew, wondering if he could smell it that way.

"What are you doing?" Vance asked.

Palmer shook his head. "Nothing, Director. Just, just, uh. . . You know. Checking to see if I had bad breath. Can I do something for you?"

"You can explain your actions, that's what you can do." When Palmer continued to give him that blank stare that seemed to be rather commonplace when it came to the Autopsy Gremlin (ever since McGee had informed him of DiNozzo's nickname for kid, Vance had found it difficult to think of him otherwise), Vance sighed. It was hard to stay mad at him when he was just so damn cute! He tipped Palmer's chin up with a finger and continued, his voice softer. "When were you going to tell me?"

Palmer's mouth quirked up on one side and he shrugged. "I didn't want to bother you with it. I mean, you have a wife, and kids, and I'm young. . ." He frowned as he thought more about it. "You have a wife, director. This is really not appropriate."

Vance shook his head, shushing him by patting him gently on the lips. "No, it's not appropriate, but I'm the director of a federal agency. I can pretty much do what I want. In any case, Jackie understands."

Palmer paled (which was pretty impressive, considering he was already pretty pasty). "Your wife _knows_? And you didn't tell me? Oh. Director Vance. I don't know if I'm comfortable with this."

But Vance was having none of it, and was in fact . . . grinning. He clapped Palmer on the back. "Not only does she understand, but she even _approves_. Maybe it's not as wrong as we think it is."

Palmer stared at him for a few moments, then said, "You're really not mad?"

Vance started chuckling. "Why would I be mad? What we had was just . . . fun. Not that it didn't mean something to me." He added the last sentence after seeing Palmer's face fall, and he brightened a little. "But you had to know it would come to an end sooner or later. Like you said, you're young, and I'm not getting any younger myself. . ." He shook his head. "Besides, if anyone here found out about us. . ."

Palmer grinned. "Yeah, that could get pretty ugly." He shared in a laugh with the older man, then let out a sigh. "Really, though, thanks for all the training, Vance."

Vance raised an eyebrow at him. "How many times have I told you. . ."

"I know, I know, it's Leon. But I just can't, especially here at work." Vance continued to stare at him and he nodded. "Right. Okay. Leon. Thanks." His smile grew then. "All those late nights really paid off."

"They sure did. Congratulations, Jimmy. Now I can say I know someone who was on Dancing With the Stars."

Palmer suddenly looked worried. "What if people wonder how I got so good?"

Vance winked at him. "That'll be our little secret." With that, he grabbed Palmer around the waist with one arm and took his hand, dipping him to the floor and making him giggle. And just as quickly, he righted them, stepped away, straightened his suit and walked out of autopsy, as if he'd never been there in the first place.

**THE END!**


End file.
